


Sparrow

by balthesar



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-25
Updated: 2006-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balthesar/pseuds/balthesar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Born a Smith or not, it was obvious to Jack's father that he was never going to be a blacksmith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sparrow

Born a Smith or not, it was obvious to Jack's father that he was never going to be a blacksmith. Jack didn't have the build or the appetite; as he got older, Jack grew taller without growing much broader, and Thomas Smith began to look for a trade that his son might be able to make a living at.

Jack was a sharp boy, his father said, a bright boy. He spent too much time climbing on the toolshed roof and chasing the hens, but he was a good boy. He needed a better life than his father, so Thomas bargained with the teacher up the road. Thomas would keep his horse shod and forge sturdier hinges for the doors, if Jack would be taught to read. Jack devoured every book his tutor gave him.

On Jack's ninth birthday, his father gave him a choice: he could apprentice to the cooper and learn to make fine barrels, or he could apprentice to the cartographer and learn geography and mapmaking. Jack's young heart was already yearning for the ocean and he chose the cartographer in a trice.

He devoured the math as avidly he did the literature, absorbing latitude and longitude and elevation and depth, learning to mark the safe channels for ships and developing a knack for drawing small sea creatures in the deep water. Jack always put the finishing finial on the compass rose last, angling towards true north, which was located somewhere in the top margin.

Clerking in the mapmaker's shop, Jack saw all manner of fascinating people, from rich lords who wanted to outline their holdings on paper to dodgy sailors and merchants who wanted maps to the Ivory Coast or the West Indies. One tatty old man came in weekly for months, asking if they'd finally found a certain map to a deserted island. Jack had decided long before that if they had, he'd keep it for himself.

Cartography was fine for a young man, but when Jack finally came into his own, at an age when he might go anywhere and trace their coasts and countries, he decided instead to head to sea. Portsmouth was too small to keep him, his father said, his heart proud and sad.

Jack Smith had been a merchant less than half a dozen years before he'd made his benchmark and had his celebratory swallow tattooed in Singapore. With a grin, he'd promised the tattooist he'd be back in yet another few years for his next swallow on the other arm.

The lovely ladies in every port called Jack a sparrow for his ample lust. He was the Sparrow to his crew, for having sailed longer than any of the rest, save his bosun. His bosun named him Jack Sparrow, for he ought to be, seeing as how swallows meant freedom and good luck.

The man named himself _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, for he was lucky and free and furthermore the captain of the _Wicked Wench_ , the most beautiful ship to sail from England to Singapore and everywhere in between.


End file.
